The house in Proskurov, where I used to live. The address was 49, 25 Oktiabria Street. In 1946 I was taken care of by Aunt Roza Gershleibovna Sudman and I left with her family from Balanda to Proskurov. In Proskurov, we lived in a single house, but everyone had a place, a room, for themselves. The house had no sewer system, it was awful, old. Roza's parents were Orthodox Jews. In principle, they observed all the rules and bans. Roza's father was some kind of an activist at the community. Aunt Roza, though they had the money to pay for it, completed only seven grades and was unable to enlist for any high school because Jews weren't admitted. Her younger brother and younger sister several years later completed their high schools and graduate studies without difficulty. So not only I did find myself among Jews again, I found myself back in the Jewish tradition. During the war, they observed only so many Jewish traditions they could, so as not to starve, and, in fact, it was permitted in such circumstances; Roza's father certainly didn't take his kippah off, he observed what he could. When we returned to Proskurov, Grandfather Hersz went to the synagogue again, he was the ritual butcher. He was the butcher and also the man in charge of circumcising children. For Yom Kippur, the whole family fasted. I was already past the age that exempts you from fasting so I fasted as well.